


Dreamcatcher

by PadBlack



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluffy Ending, Insomnia caused by nightmares, M/M, Relationship Problems, desperate Anders, sleepless Mitchell, slightly hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2954027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PadBlack/pseuds/PadBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell can't sleep, because nightmares are haunting him.<br/>Anders can't sleep, because Mitchell can't sleep and he is avoiding his mate.<br/>Ingrid offers an unusual kind of help, but the vampire must be convinced first.</p>
<p>This story contains slightly hurt/comfort, mention of blood-drinking and Mitchell "vamping-out" on his partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamcatcher

**Author's Note:**

> So, this time the thanks goes to three lovely ladies :)  
> First, to Kelly, for "planting" the idea inside my head and for being the best and fastest beta ever <3  
> Second, to Jane, because she has made the most stunning Dreamcatcher I've ever seen - Thank you so much, my dear - look at the pictures at the end of the story  
> And last but not least, :D to my dear belsmomaus, for pointing at illogical parts of the story, so I could fix them. 
> 
> You're terrific!

 

**Dreamcatcher**

 

Anders entered Mike's bar and collapsed on one of the bar stools.

 

“I need a drink, Mike,” he sighed and ran his fingers through his already tousled hair. The blond looked tired, pale and had dark circles under his eyes.

 

The oldest of the Johnson brothers stood behind his counter, cleaning some glasses and raised a questioning eyebrow at the unexpected visitor. It was too early for the usual customers and the bar was empty except for Ingrid and Olaf, who sat quite relaxed on the couch at the back of the room.

 

“Well hello, Anders,” Mike greeted his younger sibling with a sarcastic tone. “To what do I owe the honour of your visit?”

 

Before Anders could answer, Olaf shouted, “Hey, Anders, where is Mitchell?”

 

The blond sighed, but didn't answer his grandfather.

 

The next moment a beer bottle was placed in front of him. Anders lifted his gaze up in astonishment at his elder brother, who just nodded encouragingly. The blond grabbed the drink and took a deep swig from the bottle.

 

After he put it down again, Mike cleared his throat, “Better?” he asked with a little concern in his voice and his brother nodded slowly.

 

“Yeah, thanks, bro.”

 

While Anders stayed unusually quiet, Mike asked, “So, where is Mitchell?”

 

Meanwhile Olaf and Ingrid had stepped next to the blond.

 

“Hey, Anders,” the goddess greeted him softly and pulled him in a short embrace.

 

Olaf slapped his grandson's back.

 

“Anders,” he boomed, “where is your better half? Haven't seen him in ages. You haven't staked him, have you?” the Oracle joked thoughtlessly.

 

Anders laughed without humor. “Not yet, no,” he whispered more to himself, but all three could hear him.

 

“Hey? What's wrong?” Ingrid approached closer immediately and laid her arm around the god of poetry's waist in an affectionate gesture.

 

The blond man didn't answer, just took another deep gulp. Mike bent forward and said in an urgent tone, “Anders, what happened?” He paused slightly, “Did Mitchell hurt you?”

 

Anders inhaled deeply, then shook his head, “No, he didn't do anything.”

 

“That's good,” Olaf beamed. “Knew my mate Mitch wouldn't harm you.”

 

“Olaf!” Mike scolded, “it's obvious, that something is _not_ right with Anders and Mitchell, so stop babbling! And you, Anders, tell us here and now what's going on!”

 

“Come on, Anders,” Ingrid begged. “What's wrong, sweetie?”

 

Finally the blond gave in. He should have known better than to go to Mike's bar, face his relatives and have to answer uncomfortable questions.

 

“Mitch- Mitchell is having nightmares,” he started slowly, “they are really bad ones. He can barely sleep an hour or so, then he wakes up screaming.”

 

“But vampires don't need to sleep, I thought?” Olaf interrupted astonished.

 

“Ssshh,” Ingrid hissed, impatient.

 

But Anders answered his grandfather, “You're partly right. They don't need to sleep as much as humans, but Mitchell is used to sleeping more, because of me. They _can_ sleep, if they want to, but right now, he can't – not without being haunted by nightmares about his former victims, murders and who-knows-what-else – he is not telling me. It's going on for nearly four weeks now and as you can guess, I can't sleep either. I'm so used to his presence, need him next to me, to fall asleep, that it's impossible for me to get a decent night's sleep, either.”

 

It was a sign of how tired and worn out Anders was, that he admitted this weakness to others – especially his older brother.

 

The blond had the full attention of the three others. They remained silent, so he kept talking, “Mitchell insisted on staying on the couch, so that I can get some proper sleep at least, but it's not working. So we are both exhausted, tired and extremely tense. He called in sick at work the last four days and I know he is getting hungrier, but he refused to feed from me, so it's either we don't talk to each other, or we are shouting,” Anders buried his face in his palms, “and now I'm down and out. He is at home and I don't dare to go back, because I know there will be another fight or silence.”

 

“Awwww, poor baby,” Ingrid cooed softly and absentmindedly stroked the blond's back.

 

“Wow, have never heard about a sleepless vampire,” Olaf mumbled.

 

“Anders, go upstairs, lie down and get some sleep,” Mike said in a stern voice.

 

Anders snorted, “Yeah Mike, just like old times. You order me around. You know, that has never worked. You can't command me to sleep. It's like I told you, I can't sleep without Mitchell – yeah, I'm pathetic, just say it.” The blond made attempts to get up but both Ingrid and Olaf stopped him and pressed him back on the stool.

 

Mike sighed and added calmly, “Anders, I know you still don't believe me, but I care about you and I would like to ask you to go upstairs, lie down and get some rest. If you feel better, I will go to your place and tell Mitchell that you're staying overnight.”

 

“That won't help him, Mike,” Anders replied tired, “even if I sleep, he still can't and it's getting worse every day that passes by.”

 

“Do you have a dreamcatcher?” Ingrid remarked suddenly out of the blue.

 

“A what?” Mike and Olaf asked bewildered in unison while Anders kept silent.

 

“A dreamcatcher,” the goddess rolled her eyes about the ignorance of men, “It catches the good dreams and banishes the bad ones – in short.”

 

“Superstition,” Anders shook his head.

 

“How does it work?” Olaf lifted an eyebrow curiously.

 

Ignoring the god of poetry's reaction, Ingrid explained, “Well, you hang it above your bed. The attached feathers are supposed to attract good dreams and the woven net in the middle of the circle captures the bad dreams and doesn't let them through to bother the sleeping person. You must hang the dreamcatcher in a place where the sun can reach it, so the sunlight can destroy the bad dreams.”

 

“It sounds like a fairy tale for children.” Anders said, emotionless, too tired to even be sarcastic.

 

“So, have you tried this?” Olaf asked provocative.

 

“Of course not,” the blond snapped at the bald man.

 

“So, you should give it a try,” Mike tossed in unexpectedly.

 

Anders stared at him like he had grown another head. His down-to-earth brother, Mr-boring-and-spoilsport suggested that he try some heathen artefact to get his vampire back to sleep? The blond shook his head, he must already be asleep and dreaming...

 

“Yes, why not?” Ingrid asked, “I've made some by myself and I know they work just fine. I gave one to Dawn and she said it made her sleep deeper and more refreshing. You must know that a dreamcatcher made by a goddess is really powerful, nothing to compare with the mass merchandise rubbish made in China.” The woman made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

 

“So, you really believe you can heal a vampire from his nightmares with your dream-thingy?” Anders shook his head – and he thought _he_ was slowly but surely going mad.

 

“What would it hurt to try this, Anders?” Mike asked sternly, “What could happen? It either helps Mitchell, and therefore you, to sleep – or not, that's all. So I'd say, Ingrid gets one of hers and you go home and give it a try.”

 

-

 

In the end it was done the way the dark haired Johnson recommended.

 

Anders felt stupid with this delicate round thing with feathers in his hands, when he finally returned to his apartment. The blond remembered Ingrid's urgent advice to hang the dreamcatcher _above_ their bed and not just on the wall over their heads. It needed to dangle free, so its magic could work properly and with the severity of the vampire's nightmares they might need as much help as possible.

 

Mitchell was lying on the couch and zapping through TV channels. The always pale brunet looked exhausted and cringed when he heard the door opening.

 

“Mitchell?” Anders asked in a soft but anxious tone, when he entered the flat.

 

“'m here,” the vampire replied, impassive.

 

The blond god stopped a few feet away from his lover and didn't greet him as usual with a kiss. He wasn't sure what kind of mood his partner would be in, so he kept his guard up.

 

“You've been gone a long time,” the Irishman noted.

 

“Been to Mike's bar.”

 

Mitchell only nodded and stared at the noisy television.

 

“Olaf and Ingrid were there, too,” the blond continued.

 

“Hm,” was the vampires uninterested reply.

 

“Ingrid gave me a dreamcatcher. You know what it does?” Anders asked, tense.

 

Mitchell snorted, “It's bullshit!”

 

“We could at least give it a try,” the blond remarked in a desperate tone.

 

“And why should a ridiculous ring with some feathers and threads banish my nightmares?” The vampire shook his head. “It won't work. It's just childish, Anders, and I thought you were the last person to believe this shit.”

 

“And why can't we just try it? If it's bullshit, it won't hurt, right?”

 

“Do what you want,” the vampire growled, snarky.

 

The blond ran his fingers through his hair, “Do you think it helps, that you're sitting day and night on the couch, watching crap TV and feeling sorry for yourself, instead of at least trying something to help with your nightmares? You refuse to feed from me, 'cause of your lack of self-control as you said. Now you don't dare to go to work, 'cause you're so hungry. I'm sick of it. I should have taken Mike's offer to sleep at his place.” With a deep sigh Anders turned around. He couldn't stand the sight of the vampire right now.

 

Suddenly Mitchell startled the Kiwi with a roar of rage. The next moment the TV’s remote control flew across the room, collided with the wall on the other side of the room and burst into pieces.

 

The blond spun around on his heels and shouted angrily, “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”

 

But the vampire leaped up from the couch, heading for the Norse god. He growled menacing. His eyes changed from brown to black and Anders stepped instinctively backwards, his eyes wide with shock.

 

Mitchell was too close to the edge of losing his self-control, because of his hunger and exhaustion so he was now ready to attack his partner.

 

In a rush of fear, Anders turned and ran for the bedroom door – but of course Mitchell was faster.

The vampire caught the god, before he could open the door to escape. The blond was slammed with his back against the wall next to the door. He yelped in pain.

 

Mitchell's fangs were near the Kiwi's face.

 

“You're right,” he snarled, “I'm very hungry and I'm not sure, if your body contains enough blood to satisfy my hunger.”

 

But before he could sink his fangs into the flesh of the blond's neck, Bragi intervened. “STOP IT!” the blurred voice of the god ordered the vampire with all its might.

 

Mitchell flinched.

 

He hesitated.

 

The Norse god had never used his full power on the vampire, who usually didn't react as strongly to Anders' voice as normal human beings, but he was willing to do everything necessary to protect his vessel – even from his mate.

 

“MITCHELL – LEAVE ME ALONE!” Bragi ordered.

 

The vampire swallowed, then slowly loosened his grip on Anders.

 

The blond inhaled deeply, when he was released from the painful grasp. His legs were shaking and if he hadn't backed against the wall, he would have fallen to the ground.

 

Mitchell made a step backwards. He shook his head, like he had to clear it. When he looked at the blond again, his eyes were back to their usual brown.

 

“Anders-” he started anxiously, but the Norse god didn't give him a chance to speak.

 

“Don't!” he simply said. The next moment the bedroom door was closed and locked between them.

 

Mitchell's flat hand landed on the wood. “Anders, please,” he pleaded. “I didn't mean to attack you.” The vampire had to fight a lump in his throat. He leant against the wall and slid down to the floor, and buried his face in his hands.

 

Mitchell remained sitting on the floor. He could hear Anders' muffled sobs from the adjacent room and his guilty feelings grow even more. Of course he could have crushed the closed door with his inhuman strength but it would have made the situation even worse. So he sat still, suffering silently and waiting for Anders to come out again.

 

After a while the door was unlocked and the blond left the bedroom. He was still wearing his now crumpled suit, his head held high and ignoring the huddled form of the vampire down on the floor.

Daring a glimpse Mitchell noticed Anders' red, puffed eyes.

 

The Norse god headed for the kitchenette and started to rummage in one of the lower cupboards. He returned with a hammer and some nails in his hands, still refusing to talk to or even to look at his partner and shutting the bedroom door behind him again.

 

Mitchell wondered if Anders wanted to nail down the door to keep him out properly.

 

Muffled hammering sounds were heard shortly afterwards from inside the bedroom, than a curse, another pound, followed by a suppressed frustrated cry.

 

\- clonk -

 

The vampire winced. Something heavy had hit the floor – the hammer? Then the door to the en-suite bathroom was slammed fiercely.

 

Moments later the water of the shower started to run.

 

Slowly Mitchell rose from the floor and peeked cautiously inside the bedroom, even if he knew that Anders wasn't in there.

 

The vampire noticed the dreamcatcher on the bed cover, its feathers already a little crumpled. The hammer lay on the floor.

 

Mitchell frowned. Why didn't Anders hang the dreamcatcher above their headboard if he wanted to try this so badly? But there was no nail in the wall, no signs that he even tried to put the thing up there.

 

So why had he thrown away the hammer in frustration?

His gaze wandered around the room and finally Mitchell looked up at the ceiling. There he saw scratches in the wall colour – _Oh_ – now he understood the problem.

 

The vampire picked up the hammer, the dreamcatcher and one of the nails lying on the bedside-table, stepped onto the bed and hung up the heathen item with one single stroke of the hammer.

 

Mitchell returned to the living room to pick up the pieces of the broken remote control. He felt very guilty and ashamed about his outburst and attack on Anders.

 

Would his lover forgive him? He could only hope.

 

-

 

When Anders returned barefooted to the living room he wore a t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was damp and curly from the shower. And still he ignored the vampire, who was now sitting on the couch with a worried look on his face. Mitchell wanted to talk to Anders, to apologize, but he didn't know how to start, so he stayed silent and watched his partner head for the cupboard with the booze and grab a bottle of vodka.

 

The Irishman swallowed hard but bit his tongue. Anders hadn't touched strong alcohol for weeks, hadn't felt the need to get drunk.

 

Clutching the bottle to his chest, the blond made his way back to the bedroom without saying a single word to the miserable vampire.

 

But suddenly Anders winced in pain. “SHIT!” He cursed and nearly dropped the bottle.

 

Mitchell could smell the blood immediately. Anders must have stepped on a piece of the remote control he had overlooked.

 

“Anders?” the vampire was up in a second. The worry about his mate outweighed his gnawing hunger.

 

The blond lifted his injured foot and there were indeed some bloodstains on the floor.

 

Mitchell was right at Anders' side, ready to support him, but hesitated at the last moment, not sure if he was allowed to touch.

 

The god was slightly hopping on his uninjured food.

 

“Here, take my hand,” the vampire finally offered.

 

After a short hesitance Anders clasped it.

 

They made it back to the couch and the god stretched out his bleeding foot, avoiding putting it back on the ground.

 

Mitchell meanwhile had grabbed a towel from a hook in the kitchen and was kneeling next to his lover in an instant. “Let me have a look, will you?” Mitchell asked, unsure.

 

After an approving nod from the blond, the Irishman carefully lifted Anders’ foot into his lap. He gently dabbed off the blood. Luckily the chipped piece wasn't stuck inside the wound.

 

“It's bleeding a lot,” the vampire said in a neutral tone, pressing the towel to the wound. “I think you need some stitches. I should take you to the hospital.”

 

When the blond didn't reply, the brunet man lifted his head and finally met his partner's eyes.

 

“You could stop the blood, couldn't you?” he asked calmly.

 

The vampire hesitated, dropping his gaze again. “I could, but – I'm not sure if you want me to after what I've nearly done – and I'm still – hm, hungry – but I won't hurt you again,” he finished softly.

 

“I know you won't,” Anders replied confidently. They looked at each other again, then the blond God continued, “You know how much I hate hospitals, John, so if you don't feel too disgusted to lick my foot, I would appreciate it, if you can spare me the visit at the clinic.” He raised an eyebrow in a feeble attempt to mock his mate.

 

“I've literally licked your entire body,” the brunet snorted, slightly amused. “So why should I feel disgusted about licking your foot?”

 

A faint twinkle was back in Mitchell's eyes and Anders couldn't suppress a little grin. The Irishman took this as permission and started to clean the wound, pressing his tongue against it to still the blood flow.

 

After a while the wound was closing and the vampire licked the remaining bloodstains from Anders' sole.

 

When nothing was left, Mitchell retreated to sit a few feet away from him on the floor. He felt himself starting to shake. He was so hungry since he had refused to feed from Anders way too long. The little amount of blood had him left even hungrier. Mitchell clenched his fists, but of course Anders noticed.

 

“Mitchell, you should feed now, you're trembling,” the blond noted concerned.

 

“NO,” the other man shouted, more aggressive than he wanted to.

 

The Norse god didn't even wince this time. Letting Bragi's voice blending with his own, to make sure the vampire would listen, he said in an even tone, “You are hungry and you have to feed from me _now_ – I won't accept a 'No' as an answer.”

 

Anders tilted his head to one side, to present his bare neck. Mitchell just glimpsed at the offered flesh and looked away again. He licked his dry lips.

“I- I can't, Anders,” he gasped out. “I'm not sure, if I can stop myself.” He hung his head.

 

“You can and you will. I have faith in you,” the Norse god replied softly. “Mitchell, please,” Anders pleaded desperately when he got no reply, “We have to get back to our normal selves and the most important thing for now is, that you'll feed.”

 

The brunet's thoughts were racing. After a few moments he asked quietly, “Give me your wrist,” and Anders complied immediately.

 

Mitchell placed himself next to Anders on the couch and carefully took the offered hand in his own. He fondly stroked over the visible veins on the other man's wrist, then he lowered his head. The next moment Anders felt Mitchell's warm tongue stroking over his skin followed by tender little kisses.

 

The blond inhaled with a soft hiss when the pointed fangs pierced his skin.

 

Mitchell drank for a while. Even if the blood flow at the wrist wasn't as fast as on the neck, Anders soon felt a little dizzy. He became drowsy and his eyelids grew heavy. Before he gave in to the overwhelming tiredness, he noticed that Mitchell had stopped drinking. What felt like a second later, a glass of orange juice was pressed to his lips. The vampire gently urged his partner to empty the drink before he lifted the god up into his arms. The blond was asleep before his head even touched the pillow.

 

The vampire stood by the bed several minutes and watched his sleeping partner. He didn't believe that the dreamcatcher would work, but to give his beloved a good night’s rest, he eventually decided he would do anything.

 

In the end he undressed, laid down next to Anders' back and embraced him carefully from behind. Instantly the blond let out a content sigh and huddled closer to the familiar body without waking up.

 

The dreamcatcher was now swaying lightly in the night air from an open window.

 

Anders clung to his lover's arm around his chest. With his mate next to him, the blond relaxed at last and drifted off to a restful sleep.

 

Mitchell on the other hand, didn't dare to close his eyes. He glanced suspiciously to the heathen thing above them, watching the little feathers moving softly.

 

But in the end he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

 

-

 

Anders awoke to rays of sunshine and the twittering of birds. He blinked confused and tried to read the time on the alarm clock.

 

It was nearly 11 am. _Dawn is going to kill me_ shot through his mind. Then he realized the weight lying on his chest. The blond moved a bit and his gaze fell on the hairy arm of his vampire, embracing him tightly.

 

Mitchell slept deeply without twitching, moaning or any other sign of a possible nightmare. A loving smile spread on the Norse god's face when he pressed himself closer to his partner's firm body and went back to sleep.

 

-

 

Irgrid opened the door to fetch the daily paper, still half asleep, because the coffee was still bubbling in the coffee maker, when she suddenly froze. Her eyes widened in surprise. _She wasn't still stoned, was she?_ The goddess wondered. Then she bend down to have a closer look and finally touched careful the countless, colourful blossoms of the biggest and most beautiful bouquet she’s ever seen. In the middle of the flowers was a little white card with a simple note:

“Thanks – A. & M.”

 

 

**The End**

  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading - I'd love to know, what you think, so comments/kudos/criticism are very welcome :)


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